Riptide
by swonder
Summary: As a Serpent, Jughead had learned to expect the unexpected. But when an unknown dancer becomes the protagonist of his new novel, he realizes that there is nothing that could've warned him about the blonde hidden under the black wig. [Bughead]
1. The mouse

**Summary:** As a Serpent, Jughead had learned to expect the unexpected. But as an unknown dancer becomes the protagonist of his new novel, he realizes that there is nothing that could've warned him about the blonde hidden under the black wig.

Riverdale AU. Based on the CW Characters. Multichapter.

Inspired by Dark Betty and Riptide (Song by Vance Joy).

* * *

 **Chapter I: the mouse**

 _I swear she's destined for the screen_ _  
_ _closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen_

* * *

He was the only man with a book at a Whyte Wyrm. Ever.

Around him, people engaged in normal social activities. Some were drinking by the bar, others circled the pool table. The rest were scattered around the area doing things that he could not care less about.

His thumb clicked and unclicked the pen he was holding until it started to get stuck. The blank page in front of him tormented him.

It had been a while since he had been able to write on that book, even though it was with him most nights. Not the most common of sights, earning him a few sneers and mockery from other members of Southside Serpents in the beginning.

They had adjusted to his oddness many years ago, and as he grew older and closer to them, he would even recall times when some would ask him what he was currently writing about.

He had always wanted to be writer. Whether he was good at it or not, it was not for him to decide. But it gave him peace.

The only thing in his life that felt secure. Permanent. Books transcended time, stories never stopped being told. _Good_ stories forever lived in the minds of those who were touched by them.

Words were printed, written, on paper. Unforgettable and unchanging. For someone who had lost so much and had so little in his life, something like that comforted him.

Jughead knew that there were countless tales waiting to be told.

But it had been a while since he had last picked up his book and pen and actually taken the step. The last few times he had tried, real life pushed him out of his fantasy. He did not know where to begin. Maybe it was a childish dream that he had once had. Something he could never accomplish.

His mind had been chaotic for a while, any thoughts of writing pushed to the back of it. But for that very reason was that he decided that he couldn't postpone it out of fear.

All he needed was an inspiration.

Inspiration could be in any corner, if only he knew where to look.

Whistles brought him back to reality and away from his thoughts, the small commotion directing him towards the back of the Whyte Wyrm.

A figure in the center of the bar caught his attention.

Her back leaned against the pole, both hands above her head, as she slid down the metal. Big, green eyes sparkled in the dim light.

His eyes had landed and refused to detach from the unknown, slender silhouette on the stage. There was something mesmerizing about it. About her.

The way her pale skin seemed to glow in the spotlight, contrasting the dark, lacy lingerie that hugged her body. Her midnight black hair following her movements like silk, lips cherry tainted.

In retrospective, the dancer shouldn't have been an extraordinary view to him. And she wasn't. There were, after all, women at the Whyte Wyrm every night.

The difference between those women and this one was that he knew the others. Or at least _of_ them. Perhaps he was not fond of people, but if there was a quality he had mastered throughout the years was the ability to observe others. He did not merely watch strangers, but truly absorbed everything about those he encountered.

In his line of work, and especially in his territory, he had to be smart. And with intelligence came caution. The unexpected did not shock him anymore, as he made sure that he was prepared for the unexpected. That included keeping friends, enemies, and most importantly, strangers close enough.

Jughead tapped his fingers on the table repeatedly, green eyes filling more and more with curiosity by the second. He couldn't help but notice that there were no serpent-like tattoos around her very, if he may add, exposed body.

Only those associated with the Serpents would dare approach the snake-infested venue. There were no random visitors, no unwelcomed intruders.

He would've remembered her someone like her.

"Enjoying the show, Jughead?" The brunette to his right awoke him from the dancer's trance.

His only response to her smug smirk consisted of a shrug, as he leaned back in his chair, his vision perpetuated on the girl on the stage.

The black-haired man heard a snort and an almost inaudible, "Men," accompanied with a roll of Toni's eyes.

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, and as much as he would deny it if ever asked, he was doubtlessly captivated by the nameless dancer.

For obvious reasons, surely. She was undeniably beautiful, yes. He was not blind. Nonetheless, the most enticing thing about her was not her appearance, but something entirely different. It was the way she held herself on stage that fascinated him.

Usually, the dancers would radiate desperation for attention. They wanted to attract men. They wanted to excel over other women. It was an ongoing competition to the point that they became so common that others forgot they were there.

And he did not know a single thing about _her_. Yet, as he read in between the lines, he could tell that the reason she was up there, pole dancing out of all things, had nothing to do with the aforementioned reasons. Looking at her movements, how she closed her eyes to the music, it was evident that she found pleasure in it.

She did it because she could. Because she wanted to, as if no one was watching her. As if she were dancing in her own bedroom.

Jughead could've sworn that if he were close enough, he would have been able to hear her hum to the melody.

Others were too dense and superficial to notice anything beyond a half-naked woman, if they noticed anything at all. But was she was doing felt quite intimate.

It made him uncomfortable. Like an intruder in his own house.

Her hands traveled up and down her neck slowly. When she slowly opened her eyes, she found him in the crowd, if only for a second. They seemed to have an unspoken conversation while looking at each other.

Her stare was so intense, that he started to feel naked as well. To him, it had felt like minutes.

"Have you seen her before?" he finally spoke without tearing his gaze from those green eyes.

Toni raised one eyebrow, answering, "I thought you had."

"Why?" Jughead furrowed his own.

"Don't you know everyone who walks through that door?"

The tapping of his fingers stopped, "It's not a flawless system."

"So a little mouse finally fooled the snake," his dark-skinned friend mocked him with a laugh.

A voice surfaced from behind them, taking a seat next to the pair, "Doesn't seem like much of a mouse to me."

Jughead snapped his face away from the dancer and towards the source, narrowing his eyes at Sweet Pea's taunting smile.

"I can find out about her, if you want," the man with a snake tattoo on his neck offered with a much more suggestive tone, "I wouldn't mind seeing more of her, if you know what I mean."

The girl with pink highlights countered, "A rock would know what you mean, Sweet Pea."

He chuckled in response, "I'm just trying to help a fellow serpent out. Jones obviously wants to see more of her than the rest of us."

"Not interested," Jughead dismissed him with a look.

"It sure looked like you were," the other guy teased.

"Leave him alone," Toni nudged the other black-haired man on the shoulder, "Trust me, you don't want him to be brooding more than usual."

His friends continued with their conversation adding more teasing and insults, but he had canceled out their voices. He turned around to the previously occupied stage and felt a wave of disappointment invade his senses as he found an older red-headed dancer instead.

Her, he had seen before. Not that he cared whatsoever. The only thing that was slightly relevant was the fact that the redhead wasn't whom he really wanted to see.

"I'm going for a smoke," before locking his jaw, Jughead announced without waiting for any acknowledgement from his friends.

* * *

The autumn air caressed his face as he leaned against the wall. He could only hear the music coming from the Whyte Wyrm, increasing its volume every time someone walked in or out the door. The streets, on the other hand, were uneventfully quiet.

Given the cold of the night, there was barely anyone outside. He enjoyed the solitude that the moment provided.

His hand ventured inside his leather jacket to pull out a box and a lighter. He took out a cigarette and brought it to his lips, cupping the area around it while trying to light it despite the wind. It took three attempts before he could take the first hit, smoke rapidly filling his lungs.

The faintest tingle roamed his body as the cigarette started to burn out slowly.

He noticed that he was completely alone. No one usually neared him when he smoked. Anyone who had ever met him knew that he preferred to be left alone in certain moments. Smoking was one of them.

It relaxed him, cleared his mind. Talking to people did the complete opposite. He took the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air as he smoked, ironically.

As the cigarette decreased in size, the final ashes falling to the ground, a creak alerted him that the door was being opened. He was confused when the music didn't become louder.

Jughead noticed that the front door remained unopened. Flicking his cigarette, he walked towards the side of the building, where he knew the backdoor was located.

Before he turned around the corner, someone was already walking in his direction.

Not just someone.

Pale skin, short black hair, red lips, and above all, those big, green eyes that for some reason he believed he would not be able to erase from his mind. This time, however, she was fully clothed.

The girl stopped in her tracks for a moment, locking her eyes with his. He could tell that she was scared for the shortest second, but she regained her calm as if that fear had never been there.

"What are you doing?" he questioned her, forehead creasing.

Instead of replying, she walked past him, completely ignoring his presence. He was a little taken aback for a moment. Anyone who knew who he was would show at least some respect.

"I asked you something," he tried again.

Silence.

The curly-haired man reached her, "Are you scared of speaking?" Jughead gritted his teeth in annoyance at her insolence.

She spun on her heels, facing him with one raised eyebrow. He blinked a couple of times, not being prepared to stand this close to her. Every detail of her face, he could _really_ see.

"You heard me."

"I heard you," she challenged, "I just don't think that's the question you really want to ask,"

Her voice sounded like nothing he could've imagined it, even though he hadn't thought about it at all. But it was difficult for him to match that voice to that appearance.

It was surprisingly soft.

Jughead maintained his collected tone, "If I asked you your name, you would never give me the real one."

One corner of her lips lifted, "Smart boy."

He did not have much a chance to continue interacting with her, as she was already walking away.

"Smart girl," he whispered back for no one to hear.

He followed her silhouette until she disappeared into the distance, but not before a small blond curl escaping the black caught his attention.

That night, he finally decided what his story would be about.

Or whom it would be about.

* * *

 _Lady running down to the riptide_ _  
_ _Taken away to the dark side_

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a Review!**


	2. Betty dear

Quick update.I hope you enjoy the chapter and please leave a review with your thoughts. They're always appreciated.

P.S. that mid season finale was crazy!

* * *

 **Chapter II: Betty, dear**

* * *

She was the only Cooper with a suppressed alter ego. Ever.

Her family, on the other hand, was the definition of ordinary. Some people would go as far as to use the word perfect.

But even among the finest flock of sheep it was possible to find a black one. If only they paid enough attention to realize it. Sometimes she did not realize it either. Or perhaps she chose to pretend she didn't.

It was undeniably, utterly palpable.

There was a darkness within her that threatened to come out when she least expected it, but also when she most needed it. She found herself both fearing and relinquishing on those moments.

To others, it could be considered as an internal turmoil, or an illness. Someone on the verge of collapsing. In theory, she agreed. She believed in psychological illnesses as much as she did in heart attacks. But she could not look at herself in that way.

Maybe if she witnessed her own experiences omnisciently, she would accept she had a problem. That she needed help. Yet, when she woke up every morning, she buttoned up her shirt, put on a sweater and fastened her trademark ponytail. Like everything was okay.

She smiled as she did so, too, inspecting that not a single blonde strand was out of place.

"Betty, dear," her mother had constantly reminded her, putting her daughter's hair in a tight ponytail, "You don't want your hair to overshadow your face."

She never fought it or her mother, because as she was growing up, her mother was supposed to know best. Whether it was about hairstyles, clothes, food and so forth. Alice had always had an opinion about everything.

There were moments, nonetheless, when Betty forgot about her family. About her overbearing mother. About everything she was and pretended to be.

It was her own defense mechanism. Days became too long, and nights too dreadful. She grew exhausted of trying to preserve her own sanity. And then she retreated to the only haven she could think of: deep, deep within her mind.

When she stopped seeing her blond hair, she could forget who she was. She could let go of the reins and stop overthinking. Even though the black hair was not hers, she felt more liberated than ever.

Sometimes she wondered which of the two was the real Betty Cooper. The one that everyone knew, the one she had grown up as: daughter of Hal and Alice, perfect daughter, perfect friend, perfect student. Or the one that came out when the lights were out.

That version of herself was far from perfect. And what scared her the most was that she enjoyed it. She enjoyed letting go and allowing herself to do things that she would have never thought of doing in her right mind.

And still, she could go on with her life, sit with her ordinary family and pretend that the inside of her palms were not marked by bloody moon-shaped scars.

"Betty, dear, stop playing with your food," from one end of the table, her mother reprimanded her, "Your sister just asked you a question."

The youngest Cooper looked up from her seemingly more interesting plate, blinking a few times, "Sorry, Polly, what did you say?"

The long-haired blonde furrowed her brows for a second, as if asking her sister a silent question. Betty simply shook her head, telling her dismiss her odd behavior.

"I was wondering if you would like to join us for brunch on Saturday," her sister said with a smile.

"Us?"

"Cheryl is also back in town, you probably haven't seen her in a while," Polly explained, "She suggested we should have some sort of girl's brunch, you know, so we can all catch up."

"Oh."

There was only so much she could say. Cheryl had never been very fond of the Coopers, and during their high school years, she grew to dislike the youngest of the family even more.

Betty was not Cheryl's biggest fan, either. But her older sister's marriage to Jason Blossom had forced them into an undesirable relationship. They had learned to tolerate each other, to be civil with one another, although that came easier to the blonde than it did to the redhead.

Given the fact that Betty had moved and stayed away from Riverdale for a few years, as had Cheryl, they had kept their meetings to the minimum. That meant they only saw each other when they had to, such as during their siblings' wedding.

For said reasons, she could both understand and be confused by the Blossom heiress' wish to spend time with her.

The older sister continued, "You could even invite Veronica. I'm sure she would love the opportunity to wear a brunch dress."

Everyone around the table chuckled at the reference, Betty included. She could not disguise her excitement over seeing her friend again. It had been an awfully long semester since Veronica had decided to take part in an exchange program in Paris.

"I'm sure she would," she agreed with a smile before clearing her throat, "Is Cheryl staying the entire summer, too?"

Pursing her lips, Polly thought for a couple of seconds, "I think so," she finally said, "Jason didn't tell me much about it. He just mentioned she would arrive some day this week with her boyfriend, Chuck."

A ringing immediately invaded her ears, as her eyes stayed wide open.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" her mouth was running dry from the moment she heard the name.

Her sister nodded, "He was part of the football team at school. His name was Chuck—"

Before the other Cooper could finish, she cut her off, "Clayton."

The ringing became more and more intense, no longer being able to hear her relatives' voices. She could feel her heartbeat through her sweater. It was the only thing she could hear through the ringing. Her fingers released the cutlery as calmly as she could to prevent her family from noticing her shaking hands. Her arms fell to her sides, her hands forming a fist.

"Well, isn't that lovely?" her mother intervened with an upbeat tone, "It's like a high school reunion."

She refused to look at the others, her eyes falling to her hands. Yet, she did not need to open them to know what she would find.

"Thank you for dinner, Mom," she pushed herself off the chair and ran to her childhood room ignoring the alarmed looks from her the rest of the Coopers.

* * *

The streets in the Southside were shockingly unimpressive.

Given everything she had heard in the past, she expected them to be more… eventful. Dangerous, even. The street where she had parked was empty, which was not a coincidence, she thought.

She could, however, not care less about it. Her mind was going on a rampage, replaying memories that had long been buried. Wounds that were never meant to be reopened.

Green eyes were stinging with tears that threatened to escape. She shut her lids as hard as she possibly could to hold them back to no avail. Her palms repeatedly hit the wheel until small red marks stained the leather.

Red.

That was all she could see. Not because of the blood, as she had long learned to ignore that. It was burning, blinding rage. She muffled a scream, pressing the back of her blood-tainted hand against her mouth.

Her phone screen lit up, distracting her from her thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, she took a tissue from her purse and started wiping her face with it. Her reflection became more bearable to watch the longer she did it, applying some mascara and red lipstick after finishing.

She then removed the redness from her palms, until the tissue was no longer white.

As she looked at herself in the rear view mirror, she could not recognize the blond hair anymore. So she covered it.

And she smiled.

Someone opened the passenger door, taking a seat next to her.

"You're late," Betty declared with a scowl, while she examined the stranger.

The dark-skinned girl was around her age. She had brown eyes and hair just as dark, except for the pink highlights that adorned it. A leather jacket with a Serpent design covered her upper body.

"If you wanted punctuality, then you contacted the wrong person," the other countered.

She disregarded the snarky comment and reached for her wallet, taking out a few bills and handing them to the other girl.

The Serpent member counted the money, checking in the requested amount was there.

"Jesus," the brunette's voice became a whisper, "Is that blood?"

Betty followed the girl's eyes and landed on the red droplets decorating the bills. Without thinking, she ripped the money away from the brunette.

"It's nothing," she spat with gritted teeth.

The brunette's eyes traveled swiftly around the car, noticing more and more disturbing things everywhere she looked.

"Listen, if you're hurt," she started, "I know it doesn't concern me—"

"You're right," the Northsider gulped, refusing to meet her eyes, "It doesn't concern you."

"Okay," the pink-haired woman raised her arms in surrender, showing her that she was not a threat, "Okay."

The two of them were quiet for what seemed like a lifetime, since neither of them knew what to say. Betty wondered why the other girl would choose to stay as long as she already had. They didn't know each other. They most certainly didn't owe each other anything, but for some reason she was still there.

The Serpent inhaled, before announcing, "I can't take your money."

"What?"

"I _won't_ take your money," she corrected herself, "You're obviously going through… some stuff. I'm not going to help you self-destruct."

"I'm not self-destructing."

With a snort, she mocked her denial, "Right."

Even though she wanted to sound angry, her voice came out weaker than she had intended, "Why do you care what I do, anyway?"

"I don't," was her answer, but she had taken too to say it, making Betty believe that perhaps she was not being honest, "Your car looks like a murder scene. I don't want any of that blood on my hands."

"That seems like an exaggeration."

Brown eyes finally met green, "Hardly."

Sighing, she sank into her seat, "This was a mistake. I should go."

"You probably should," the other agreed, opening the door. She hesitated for a moment, as she looked at Betty, "Maybe I'm going to regret this… but if your night is not over yet, there's this place where you could blow off some steam."

A part of her warned her to go home, that nothing good could come out of mingling with Serpents. She could turn the car now and pretend that this night had never happened. She would go back to her suburban lie of a life where she would be safe and sound.

At least that's what everyone seemed to believe.

Being good, responsible Betty had only brought her pain. Pain she was trying but couldn't escape from. Maybe she had to stop trying at all.

"Where's this place?"

"Have you ever heard of the Whyte Wyrm?"

* * *

Her bed felt much softer that night.

A weight had been lifted, if only for a night, off her shoulders. She could not stop the laugh that escaped her lips, making her feel slightly insane, as she let herself fall on her bed.

Her mind replayed some of the scenes from that night, as she was dancing in front of everyone. She remembered the music, the coldness of the metal pole against her skin, the smell of alcohol in the air.

She had felt free for a short while, but it was precious. As if she was proving herself that she could indeed be free from her demons, if she so wished.

So uncharacteristic of her, everyone would say. It did not seem to bother her anymore.

Tonight she could be anyone she wanted, and she decided to be carefree. She did not think of her family, her past, her future. No one knew who she was at the Whyte Wyrm, but most importantly, no one would remember nor care tomorrow.

On the contrary, she was the one who remembered one face in the audience. She would not be able to forget it.

Black curls and green eyes that had looked at her in a way that had made feel a different type of naked. He had captivated her, even though she had been the one on stage.

He had seen _her,_ she was sure of it. He had seen the monster under the black hair but didn't run away. He did not move an inch.

Her eyes fluttered closed, a small smile displaying on her lips.

It had been the fastest she had fallen asleep in years.

In the blackness of her dreams, she saw green eyes again.

They were lying in bed, facing each other. He looked at her the way he had the first time he laid eyes on her, as if he could see her pain. As if she could see his. Vulnerable and unguarded.

A hand fell on her cheek, caressing it slowly before placing a strand of blond hair behind her ear. She was extremely aware of how close to each other. The smallest move and their lips would touch.

She did not know him.

It was impossible for her to know what kind of knives he had hidden behind his back, waiting for hers to be left unprotected. What kind of damage he could do to her.

But, despite it all, he did not know _her_. He wouldn't expect anything from her. To him, she was probably just another messed up soul.

And maybe, just maybe, she could finally stop pretending that she wasn't.

He waited for her to close the distance, and when she did, she wondered how she could ever move away.

His lips were soft, timid, at first, like he was waiting for her to give him permission. She enjoyed the slow pace of it, as she could memorize every single inch of his lips. Electricity traveled up and down her spine the moment her tongue made contact with his.

It became more intense with each kiss, his teeth nibbling slightly on her lips, while her hands were buried in his messy hair. He turned them over, so that the blonde would be under him.

His mouth left a trail from hers down to her neck, where he found a spot that made her moan. Her eyes closed, her legs wrapped around him.

She noticed that his hands started to move down her shirt, causing her to unconsciously push him away. But as hard as she tried, it wouldn't make him back off.

"Stop," her voice seemed to crack as she begged, "Please."

But he wouldn't.

When he looked up, she realized that he wasn't the green eyed Serpent anymore, but a dark-skinned man from a past she couldn't erase.

" _Betty, dear, stop being so difficult,"_ Chuck said against her neck.

Betty's eyes shot open, finding herself alone in her room again. Her breathing frantic.

It was just a nightmare, she thought but hesitated.

She should be so lucky.


	3. The lost boys

**Merry (late) Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoy this one and please leave a review with your thoughts. They make this writer so very happy.**

Inspiration song for this chapter: _Stolen Dance_ by Milky Chance. You should listen to it to get in the mindset.

* * *

 **Chapter III: the lost boys**

* * *

"Happy birthday, Archie!"

A group of young adults had sung earlier that afternoon as the birthday boy had arrived at the campsite where they would be spending the entire weekend.

Veronica had planned the occasion and gathered a group of her boyfriend's closest friends to celebrate. Kevin, Josie, Reggie, Moose, and even the rest of the Pussycats and part of the football team. No one had refused since all of them wanted to meet their old friends from high school.

And no one, in the history of Riverdale High, could've ever turned down Veronica Lodge.

She had promised Betty they would spend some quality time together when the weekend was over, and the blonde had wholeheartedly accepted. Because even though they desperately needed to talk to each other, they could wait a few more days and enjoy the party.

The daytime had been uneventful. It was full of conversations, drinking and the occasional games. The nighttime was what everyone had anticipated.

After the clock struck 9:00 p.m., as the blue sky had darkened into a starry night, the campers' moods and intentions seemed to follow.

The lightness of the day had soon dissipated after the expected catching up. The game of twenty questions regarding everyone's lives after Riverdale High had soon come to an end, leaving one conclusion in the air.

They realized that regardless of the years that had passed, they still knew each other. Or at least what they wanted. They simply wanted to let go. On that day, they did not care where the others had been or what they had done.

And that, to Betty, was an utter relief.

It was not only a day of celebration, but one of release. So she allowed herself the satisfaction.

If only for a weekend, she wanted to remember, as did everyone else, what it was like to have no worries in mind. What it was like to be a carefree teenager again.

Reggie Mantle whistled to get her attention and the moment she found him, he threw a beer can in her direction. She almost dropped it, earning her a laugh from the friends around her, which caused her to laugh as well.

"Maybe that should be your last!" the former football player joked before a curly haired girl nudged him on his side.

He winced in pain slightly, "Nice one, Josie," she called with a smirk.

The blonde was not sure how many beers she had finished already, but in the intoxicated scale, she was noticeably below the rest.

The guys had already challenged each other to many beer pong competitions, with a few of the girls participating. Most of them had even managed to complete the very traditional kegstand.

Throughout the night, they had encouraged Betty to try but to no avail. She was not much of a drinker, which only meant that the experience would be awfully different to her than it was to everyone else.

Her best friend landed gracefully on her feet, cheerleader style, after her own kegstand. The rest of the crew cheered for her as she did so, Betty included.

The Lodge heiress sighed as she plopped herself next to the youngest Cooper.

"That was great," she announced proudly, "You should give it a go."

"I'm good," shaking her head, she refused with a chuckle, "We both know I would fail miserably."

The raven-haired girl raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows, "You just wait and see. After a few more of those," she pointed at Betty's unfinished can, "You will be doing more than just a silly kegstand."

"At this pace you will all pass out in no time."

"Ah," Veronica voice turned into a tsk-tsk, one side of her mouth lifting up, "Trust me, we still have some surprises up our sleeves."

It was the blonde's turn to raise an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

Her friend motioned towards Reggie Mantle, who was now talking to a new guest. The person was much shorter than he was. She was wearing a leather jacket and her chocolate waves were decorated with pink highlights.

"What the–" Betty whispered to herself.

The panic levels in her mind were exponentially increasing at the sight of Toni, the Serpent she had met a few nights ago. The one she had shared a deep dark side of her with. The girl smirked as she conversed with the footballer, handing him a paper bag eventually.

"Relax," her friend said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Archie and Reggie know them. They're cool."

Before Betty could ask what she had meant by _they_ , she noticed another figure hugging her other redhead best friend. It was impossible for her to forget the other Serpent's memorable features. Striking green eyes, porcelain skin and curly black hair, falling on his forehead, which was now tamed by a crown-shaped beanie.

She couldn't help but think that was the oddest garment she had ever seen.

Her thoughts were mostly invaded by the uncertainty she now faced: whether they would recognize her or not. And if so, then what?

A hurricane of emotions twirled in her stomach, fear being the most noticeable one. Her exterior, however, did not give her away.

Archie signaled the two visitors with his hand for them to follow. They walked towards the group, an awkward silence engulfing the environment.

The redhead scratched the back of his neck, "Guys, meet Jughead and Toni."

 _Jughead_. What a strange name, she thought. Even though she would have never been able to guess that was his name, she could not imagine any other now. It seemed to fit him somehow.

The aforementioned stood there, saying nothing, "Well, you already know Reggie," Archie then pointed at each person while introducing them, "Josie, Kevin, Veronica, Betty–"

She saw Jughead's gaze moving from one face to the other. Her pulse was deafening, making her wonder if the others could hear it as well. She studied his face for any sign of recognition. The moment Archie mentioned her name, his green eyes fell on her shortly before moving to the next person.

A sigh of relief was stopped by the most minimal gesture. Out of the corner of his eye, he met her stare for a mere second.

"So, Jughead," Veronica's ever-so-charming voice broke the uncomfortable silence, "I've heard a lot about you."

The thin line of his mouth lifted slightly upwards, "Likewise."

"All good, I hope."

"Well, it is Archie we're talking about," her best friend laughed at the black-haired man's comment, shooting her boyfriend a playful look.

The others laughed, too, recalling the redhead's pure behavior, which melted the ice that had been separating them from the two Serpents. They seemed to come to a silent agreement. If Archie Andrews, the most righteous person they knew, believed the two to be trustworthy, then they had no reasons to say otherwise.

Soon after, the group dispersed and everyone resumed their own shenanigans. The music was back, loud enough to silence those around her, but somehow the uneasiness inside her was much louder. The anxiety she felt was only intensified by her current state of tipsiness.

Everyone seemed to be in their own careless world, oblivious to the fact that the blonde was not sharing the exact set of mind.

She could see Veronica, Kevin, Josie and a few others dancing by the fire, Archie and Jughead in the distance throwing rocks into Sweetwater River.

"You know," a figure sat down next to her, leaning back into the grass, "I almost didn't recognize you with all these cupcake colors of yours. I did not think we would meet again."

"I was kind of hoping for that." Betty released a mouthful of air, offering the pink-haired girl a nervous smile, "How long did it take you?"

"To figure it out?" Toni furrowed her dark brows, tapping her chin, "Not long at all."

"How?"

With a snort, the brunette explained matter-of-factly, "We're not comic book characters. In real life, everyone would notice that Clark Kent is Superman."

A shy laugh left her lifts before she could stop herself, "That is a peculiar way to see it."

"But you got my point," she said while shrugging her shoulders, "It's written all over your face."

Her mouth dried up, shame colored her cheeks until her pale skin turned crimson. She was at a loss of words. There was no possible way to deny it or recover from it. She could see the certainty in Toni's eyes. The only viable option was for her to bury it.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, if that is what's bothering you," the other girl promised.

She finally asked the burning question that had been in the back of her mind from the night they had first met, "Why would you do me any favors?"

The Serpent pressed her lips into a thin line, remaining quiet for a while, "I'm not doing you a favor. In fact, I'm not doing anything at all."

Although she was not exactly talking about this night, specifically, she decided not to push her luck. She would take what she could get.

"Do you think he knows who I am?" Betty redirected her vision towards the two silhouettes by the waterside.

"Jughead is very smart," the honesty in Toni's contributed to her uneasiness, "Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Why does it matter?"

"I don't know. It's just complicated."

"It doesn't have to be," the pink-haired girl chugged the rest of the contents of her red cup, "I can literally see gears spinning in your head."

"Pardon?"

Toni chuckled at the blonde's confused expression, "I couldn't care less what you do in your free time. And I most certainly won't judge you for it. So all of those conspiracy theories in your head are just that. In your head."

Clearing her throat, she agreed without meeting her eyes, "Sounds plausible."

"One last piece of observation," she said as she pushed herself up from the grass, "This _dark… Betty_ persona I met was one hell of a character. It's hard to see how you can come back to _this_ Betty."

"What is that supposed to mean?" a light redness attacked her pale cheeks, embarrassment and annoyance simultaneously taking over her body.

"Exactly what you think it does."

The Serpent left her alone, as she continued socializing and drinking. Betty, on the other hand, remained immobile, gritting her teeth at the challenge. A few seconds after, she abandoned the ground and jogged towards the group of friends that were drinking from the keg.

"Hey Reggie!" getting everyone's attention and raising a few eyebrows, she said with a smirk, "Hoist me up."

She ran until she reached the keg, her hands pushing against its edge, lifting her body upside down. The footballer quickly reacted, catching her legs in the air as she stood over the metal barrel.

All she could hear were her friends chanting her name as the taste of beer filled her throat. If she had been able to look around, she would have found not one, but _two_ Serpents grinning.

* * *

 _11:30 p.m_., her phone screen read.

Just like Veronica had assured her, no one had thrown the towel yet. If anything, their spirits became more and more energetic by the hour, or by the drink.

She could spot a group of bodies submerging into the dark waters of the river. Laughter, splashing, singing.

It was a calming sight, strangely enough, to see how happy everyone looked. They turned more daring, more carefree, as if the alcohol shut down the last of their inhibitions. At least some more than others.

For that reason, when someone had sheepishly suggested _skinny-dipping,_ the idea was greeted by an uncertain but somewhat excited response.

One yes dragged another like a domino effect, and ten minutes later, almost everyone had partly undressed and dipped into the cold water.

There was, however, no domino strong enough to peer-pressure Betty into it.

Her friends had begged her to join them but she jokingly said that there was not enough alcohol at the campsite to change her mind about it.

"Come on, guys, let it go," it was Veronica who convinced them to leave the blonde alone, since she knew a greater amount than the rest.

If there was anyone in Riverdale, or anywhere for that matter, who knew why she felt so reluctant about such a harmless activity as skinny-dipping, it was the Lodge Heiress. She was her best friend, after all.

The raven-haired girl gave her hand a squeeze, whispering, "Are you sure you'll be fine staying here alone?"

She looked around for a couple of seconds only to find that _almost_ everyone had left. Veronica followed her line of vision, landing on a figure who was soon exiting the campsite, his leather jacket with the notorious two-head serpent illuminated by the moonlight.

Jughead swiftly looked back, meeting her eyes for a second, causing her to turn her now blushed face towards the other girl.

Her friend arched an eyebrow and answered with a single whisper, _"Yum!"_

The blonde chuckled in return, "You have a boyfriend, remember?"

"But you don't."

She seemed to engage in thought for what felt like forever before she quietly announced, "I think I will go for a walk."

"Just in case you wanted to know, Jughead went in that direction," she pointed and with a final wink, Veronica followed the opposite trail to Sweetwater River.

* * *

The voices of her friends and blasting music had long ago vanished into the distance.

It must have been a while since she had started walking, but she was not sure how long. She willingly lost track of time. There was something frightening, yet captivating about the blackness of the woods. All she could hear were crickets and the constant twig breaking under her feet, the landscape weakly lit by the moon.

She was not lost. The moment she decided to return to the campsite, she could. As a child, she had spent countless hours scouting the woods with Archie and his father. Now, she knew the forest like the back of her hand.

She did not, however, know where she wanted to go. But that made her midnight adventure all the more effortless. At the beginning of her stroll, she had been looking for Jughead, but so it seemed, he did not want to be found.

To her left, she found the vastness of the Sweetwater River. The water was still and silent, the moon and stars reflecting on its surface. The scene appeared to be taken out of a painting. Suddenly, curiosity overcame her precautions as she pondered what her friends found so appealing about it.

Without any further thought, she neared the riverbank and slowly dipped one foot in it. It was cold, as she had predicted earlier, but the temperature was nothing but refreshing against the warmth and humidity of that summer night.

It was not necessary for her to check her surroundings to know that she was alone. She would have been able to hear someone else's presence, which eased the next decision making.

She unzipped her hoodie, shorts followed, before placing them on top of a fallen log.

Her toes curled against the grass. She took her time to go underwater, enjoying the feeling of air and cool water on her skin.

A few minutes passed until she sank completely, running her hands through the blond locks as she emerged from the water.

The moment she opened her eyes, she scanned the vicinity. A choked yelp escaped her lips when she saw someone not too far from where she had undressed. Not just someone.

 _Jughead._

His back leaned against a tree, his legs stretched out in front of him. There was a book in his hands, possibly lit by the moonlight. He had reacted to her squeak, his eyes finally diverting from the reading. Still, she asked herself if he had noticed her before that at all.

Green eyes found hers, and she became aware that she was partly naked. Nonetheless, she also noticed that she did not mind that he was there. He had, at the end of the day, seen a much darker part of Betty Cooper.

He went back to his book, dismissing her presence, but she could not bring herself to do the same. She could not take her eyes off him.

In fact, for a few days, she had not been able to take her _mind_ off him.

She could not figure out what it was about him that drew her in. Maybe it was the fact that he had seen so much, yet knew so little about her. On the other hand, she did not know a single thing about him. But there was darkness in him, she could tell.

Somehow, she had been lucky or unlucky enough to see him again. She could not help craving to know how it would play out.

Jughead lifted his eyes from the book again, brow furrowed. Redness crept its way up her neck to her cheeks when he noticed her staring.

Instead of resuming his reading, he closed the book and walked towards the log where she had left her clothes. He sat down, taking a cigarette out of a pack and lighting it.

She took his actions as an invitation and made her way out of the water. His eyes were still glued on hers, and vice versa.

Ignoring her clothes, she simply sat down next to the raven-haired man, who arched an eyebrow at her decision to remain unclothed.

Neither of them said anything for a while. She simply observed him, as did he, out of the corner of her eye. She was fascinated by the way his chest rose with every drag on the cigarette, how his lids fluttered slightly when he released the trapped smoke.

"Why are you here alone?" his voice disrupted the quietness between them.

"It's peaceful here," she pressed her lips into a thin line before adding, "What about you?"

Jughead lifted his book to show her, "Same."

" _The Catcher in The Rye_ ," the blonde read out loud, assenting at his great choice of literature, "Do you always carry a book with you?"

"More or less," he nodded.

"Did you want to read? Or did you just _not_ want to skinny dip?"

"I wanted to read," while scratching the back of his neck, the corners of his lip rose, "But I'll also not do _that_ in this lifetime."

There was a comfortable silence between them, and she found that odd. Given the fact that he was a stranger above all, she should've felt some sort of negative emotion. Any negative emotion. She noticed that there were none.

Not even fear, which she had felt the moment she saw Toni.

He slid the cigarette pack in her direction, bringing her back to reality while asking her a silent question.

She shook her head with a timid smile, "I don't smoke."

"Never have?" he asked in surprise, turning his face towards her.

"At least not in this lifetime," her mocking comment earned a chuckle from the serpent.

The sound of his laughter, even if it was minimal, was something she found shockingly mesmerizing.

Somehow, she realized that if Jughead knew or didn't know she was the Whyte Wyrm dancer, neither of those scenarios terrified her anymore. He had barely acknowledged her throughout the night, so perhaps he did not care about it to begin with.

"I'm Betty, by the way," she said quietly, placing a strand of wet hair behind her ear.

The green-eyed man cocked his head slightly to the side in confusion, "I know that."

After clearing her throat, she clarified, "But that was someone else introducing me."

She did not want to care either.

Extending her hand, she grabbed a hold of his cigarette pack and placed one between her lips. His eyes shot open, studying her every movement. There was an unspoken message traveling between the two of them.

And the significance of the moment did not seem to go unnoticed by him.

Jughead held a lighter a few inches away from her mouth, waiting for her to take the next step. When she did come closer, a small flame appeared by a flick of his thumb.

She deeply inhaled the fumes, fighting the urge to cough. The smoke filled her lungs and she started to notice a relaxing tingle in her skin. She held it inside for a few seconds before exhaling it all.

As she continued to do it, the cigarette turning to ashes, she saw a leather jacket fall on the log.

It was the first time he had not been looking at her. His eyes were on the ground instead. Before she could wonder why he suddenly grew shy, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and a few scars on his side caught her attention. They were not fresh, but gruesome.

They did not mutter another word, but merely followed each other to the water after he undressed.

When they both reappeared from underwater, she caressed a wet black strand out of his forehead.

As many of their interactions went, she did not ask, and he did not tell.


	4. Belladonna

Finally back! I was caught in finals and trips these last few weeks. Laptop would not work, which meant I had to write this on an IPad... The struggle.

But I hope you forgive the delay and enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 **Please don't forget to leave a review afterwards, every single one brings a smile to my face. X**

* * *

 **Chapter IV: Belladonna** (a.k.a. Deadly Nightshade)

* * *

Jughead Jones was dangerous.

There was darkness within and around him. It did not take much information to guess that. Betty realized, however, that as the night grew darker, it was almost impossible for her to notice that anymore.

She had long forgotten where she was. Or whom she was there for.

Perhaps her friends had already returned to the campsite and became aware of her absence. Even more troubling, they could already be aware of her _and_ Jughead's absence.

On a normal day, she would have run back to the camp to prevent a search-party or gossip from happening. She was the responsible one. The one that took care of her friends. The designated driver even when there was no driving needed. But this was no normal day.

Surprisingly enough, not only was she a participant but also the perpetrator.

He had stayed because she silently asked him to. Whether he wanted to or not, she did not know. Maybe she would never know. But he did not strike her as the type that could be forced or manipulated into something he did not want.

For some unknown reason, at least to her, she could not get enough of him. He, on the other hand, did not seem to be bothered in the slightest. If he had not looked at her once every few minutes she would have thought that he did not even know she was there. He seemed so indifferent towards everything that it made her feel jealous.

She always cared too much. She let her feelings affect her beyond control. Then she wondered what was necessary for a man like Jughead to lose control.

"Do you think the others are worried?" Her question caused the raven-haired man to turn to her from his position.

After they had left the water, he lay on the grass with arms behind his head. She had followed him but sat cross-legged instead.

"About?" He asked back.

"Us," she answered simply, "Where we are."

His green eyes rolled, "Two people disappeared for about an hour. I think they can put two and two together," her cheeks burned at his reference and he chuckled quietly, "Half of them are probably doing the same."

"We are not—"

"I know," he interrupted her. His tone was neither aggressive nor disappointed.

"So why are you still here?" Betty asked before the rudeness of her question struck her.

Jughead raised an eyebrow at her still blushing face, "Because you're an interesting character, Betty."

A frown creased her forehead and a little 'Oh' left her lips.

"So you stayed."

"So I stayed," he repeated.

"Just because," she continued.

"Just because," Jughead said again, "Not every person who comes your way wants sex from you."

"Everyone wants _something_ ," the blonde corrected him, running her hand through her wet hair.

"You're right," with a nod of his head, the Serpent agreed, "Everyone does want something."

His eyes pierced hers, causing her to whisper, "So what is it that _you_ want?"

"I don't know yet," a long sigh followed his words, "Do you?"

Something told her that he was not being entirely honest. She could notice that he was selecting his sentences wisely in order to reveal as little information as possible. It both intrigued and irritated her.

As she licked her lips, his eyes drifted for a millisecond in their direction.

"Surely you want something too," one corner of his lips lifted, "Otherwise your argument would be invalid."

She could have lied and said she didn't. She could've ignored his statement. She could've left. She could have, she should have, she would have.

Instead, a different set of words were spoken, "There's something really wrong with me."

He was just as taken aback by her sincerity as she was. His face tilted slightly, inspecting her expression. She fidgeted with the tips of her hair, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was naked. He was analyzing her the same way he did when she danced at the Whyte Wyrm.

Except this time there was almost no distance between the stage and his table.

"Why are you telling me this?" He voiced the uncertainty that his green eyes were already showing.

Taking a deep breath, she muttered, "Because you _know_."

There were only so many people who had actually witnessed her going _Dark Betty_ , as some people had nicknamed it. By an unlucky turn of events, she had added Jughead to that list. She tried to find any sign of acknowledgement or recognition in his face, but other that the furrowed brow, he gave nothing away.

When he still did not comment, she added, "I don't know how to be in control anymore."

After what felt like a lifetime had come and gone, he suggested, "Then _lose_ it," her eyes opened wide in confusion, "And you don't need _me_ for that, sweetheart."

There was a logic behind what he said that she could not shake off. It was an idea that would wander her thoughts every so often. When she was most liberated, when she forgot about everything, that was when she was in control. The irony.

When her body took over her very being, her mind remained quiet. She felt free. Weightless, even. She then pondered how lethal it would be to _always_ feel like that.

It was by the clearing of his throat that she noticed that she had been staring too intensely at him.

With a creased forehead and lips in a straight line, he declared, "We should head back."

* * *

"And we didn't say anything on the way back," Betty finished her tale, green orbs stuck to the floor.

The Pembrooke chandelier sparkled alongside Veronica's eyes. They had been conversing for hours since they both had decided to spend some time together after camping. It was their first encounter alone after not seeing each other for months. There was no Archie, no relatives, no friends. No interruptions.

It was close to midnight and close to two bottles of wine when Betty had gathered the courage to reveal to her best friend what had happened between the Southside Serpent and herself during the weekend. In retrospective, it had not been anything that deserved much attention, but her friend obviously believed otherwise.

The Lodge heiress observed her expectingly, a knowing smile adorning her stunning features. She leaned on the chair with crossed legs as her right hand fingers tapped her knee in a wave-like motion. Her body language screamed _I told you so._

Betty was not sure how Veronica always knew before there was even _something_ to know. All it took was a misplaced look, a lingering handshake, an almost invisible blush. Anything slightly out of the ordinary and that woman could smell it like a bloodhound.

"Your apartment has not changed one bit," the blonde said, attempting to change the topic and avoid her friend's accusing gaze.

With a small shrug of her shoulders, Veronica answered, "If it ain't broke."

"Sometimes I wish I did not miss this place," Betty added taking a sip of her red wine, "Riverdale, I mean."

Brown eyes softened at the almost inaudible sound of her voice, "It makes us come back."

"Yes," she agreed with a nod and a smile, "Paris treated you well."

"I treated Paris even better," her best friend sent a wink in her direction, "But I missed you. Archie plays Betty Cooper very poorly."

The blonde laughed wholeheartedly before joking back, "The ponytail was never really his best look."

There was a nostalgic tone behind their words that did not escape either of them. Betty remained immobile, not uttering a word. She waited for her raven-haired friend to take the next step and decide the course of their conversation.

"As endearing as the image of a blond Archie is," a grin appeared on Veronica's face, "I still must address the serpent in the room."

Betty covered her face with one hand, "Do we really have to?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You went skinny dipping and had a heart-to-whatever-he-has talk with this… Jughead. A complete stranger. That is a big deal in my book."

With a sigh, she surrendered, "It was not my brightest moment."

"Au contraire," Her friend beamed her approval, "Betty, there's a reason you shared that night, and I'm not pretending to know what it is, but I think you do."

"I don't have feelings for him. It's not a romantic thing, V," the green-eyed woman clarified.

"It doesn't have to be," Veronica's tone softened, as did her eyes, "I know that Riverdale is full of prejudice and you feel like we— like _I_ won't understand this… _darkness_ you're trying to conceal. But everyone has a dark side.

The only difference is," she continued, "Southsiders don't hide it. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Jughead."

Betty bit her bottom lip as she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, "Seems unsafe."

"Does it?" Veronica's perfectly plucked eyebrows rose, "I thought the real danger was here."

Opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, she realized that she could not effectively counter the argument. As ambiguous as it all was, what seemed to be so clear to Veronica already was starting to become clear to her.

"You're a horrible friend, you know that?" They both chuckled at her harmless comment, "You're supposed to keep me on the right track."

"Two wrongs make a right," black eyebrows wiggled, "You're overthinking."

A sad smile decorated her features, her eyes glued to her glass, "It would be nice to give my mind a break but—"

"Archie trusts him," the dark-haired woman argued, before Betty created more excuses, as if that proved the man's quality, "Granted, I wouldn't be too trusting around him."

"He's not really the cooperating type."

"Listen. I'm afraid he's right. People are selfish. Everyone wants _something_ ," seriousness dripped from the Lodge's words, "So outsmart him."

The youngest Cooper furrowed her brows in confusion, "It doesn't matter now, does it?" She then said in defeat, "That moment passed."

"Don't forget that he stayed there, too," Veronica explained relentlessly, "He _does_ want something. And he doesn't strike me as the type that doesn't know what he wants."

That fact was not lost on her. It was a mystery that kept reappearing in her thoughts. She did not know why he would ever be interested in her. But so it seemed that he was. There was something he was not telling, not that she expected him to. What she also did not expect was that she found herself not caring.

The most relevant piece of information remained: she did not know him, but most importantly, he did not know _her_. And that was beyond thrilling.

"You should also learn a thing or two from me" the same wicked glow reappeared in her friend's dark brown eyes, a set of car keys in her hand, "I make my own moments."

* * *

She rolled the dice that night as she stepped out of one of the Lodge's car. Veronica had asked her chauffeur to park not too far down the street before winking to her friend one last time.

In front of her were rows of motorbikes and the Whyte Wyrm not too far back. Betty was not sure what she was betting on, but at least the Lodge heiress was betting on her, and that comforted her.

Her feet seemed to carry her on autopilot because as of now, she still had no idea what she was planning on doing. Perhaps that was a good sign.

Perhaps not.

When the neon Serpent sign stood to her to right and the door handle was in her grip, she deeply inhaled and closed her eyes for ten seconds.

She ran a hand through her seemingly blond locks, which had turned black in her mind. And the she opened the door.

Because of the loud music and voices that roared around the Wyrm, others had not been alerted of her entrance. Her usually pastel colors had been replaced with black, which further helped her camouflage.

The lights were dim, the air was electrifying. The entire ambiance felt like a catalyst.

Her vision roamed her surroundings looking for a glimpse of familiarity. Dozens of identical leather jackets scattered around the place, complicating her mission. She maneuvered around the bar with difficulty, accidentally bumping into bodies.

But she would not stop, she would not cower. She was fearless.

Among the sea of blackness she spotted a a ray of pink and immediately followed. Toni was serving drinks and chatting with a group of gang members.

As she neared the bar, the female Serpent caught her eyes. A Cheshire grin appeared on the brunette's face and quickly tilted her head to her right. The gesture was so minimal that Betty almost missed it. The bartender then continued tending other customers, as if she had seen and done nothing.

She followed Toni's directions and found whom was looking for.

Leaning against a pool table, cigarette in one hand and the other supporting his weight. His beanie was missing, which freed his raven curls. A strand of hair fell against his forehead. No wonder she was drawn to him. He was striking.

He was waiting for his turn while other men around his age played. Betty's neck and face were flushing, her ears were ringing. But her feet were moving.

When she was close enough, the men noticed her sudden arrival. Jughead's back, however, was turned on her so he would not become aware of her presence as quickly as the others.

In a moment of boldness, she snatched the cigarette from his hand. That was more than enough to force the Serpent to face her with a murderous expression.

The hostility in his green eyes changed to annoyance, "Betty, what do you think—"

"Stop talking," she snapped, his irritation morphing into shock, similar to his friends' faces, "You were wrong. I do need you for that."

When he had recognized his own words from last night, they stared at each other for a few seconds as the meaning of her words sank in. The air felt heavier, making it hard for her to breathe anymore. Or maybe she had forgotten how to. His green eyes seemed to move from left to right, trying to find something in hers.

Yes, he was dangerous. She knew that. Everyone knew that. Jughead Jones represented the obvious type of danger that people dare not look in the eye. The type that people run away from.

She was certain that everyone would wonder why someone like her, someone so innocent, would not do just that.

Countless theories as to why she would be attracted to the Serpent were bound to surface. But the thought that would never cross their minds was that there was a more fatal kind of threat. The one that was so well-hidden that it raised no suspicion. It was masked by a curtain of beauty. So inviting and captivating that caused the beholder to approach it.

And Jughead was in her proximity.

With a swift movement of her hand, she brought his face towards hers. Her lips found his for mere seconds before he pushed away, placing the back of his hand against his mouth.

"You shouldn't be here," he gritted between his teeth without looking at her, aware of the whistles and eyes on them, his own were unreadable.

"No, I shouldn't," Betty agreed, yet her tone was challenging.

He grabbed her arm, forcing her to move forward until they reached the exit of the bar and no one was in sight.

She did not dare flinch or blink away from his stern face. Nevertheless, she knew that if she stared long enough she would suffocate to death, if that was even possible. He would intimidate her out of that place and out of his life.

But she waited.

And waited.

Against her expectations and any logic, it was his turn to snake his hands behind her neck.

Then his lips came crashing into hers with a force to be reckoned with.

Serpents preyed whereas deadly nightshades merely waited.

And Betty Cooper was no serpent.


	5. The Invitation

**A/N:** It has been a while but I finally got the energy and time to write a little. There are a few references from actual episodes on the show.

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter and please do not forget to leave a review. It only takes a minute and I would love to hear your opinions.**

* * *

 **Chapter V: The Invitation**

* * *

Betty Cooper was not the kind of girl who would end up with her back against the wall.

Not literally, at least.

It was against everything her family stood for and what she was raised to be. If she cared enough to start thinking she could have surely seen the look of disappointment in her mother's face. In fact, if she overthinked she could come up with a list of at least ten things that were wrong with what she doing just off the top of her head.

But whatever power switch her mind had, he had found it. And that was not the only spot he had found.

He had kicked her out of the bar and she believed with certainty that that was the end of whatever connection she believed they had. Engulfed by her own embarrassment, as she could have sworn she saw nothing but anger in his eyes, she failed to notice his intentions.

Perhaps he did not understand what was happening either, or maybe he was a step ahead of her. It was impossible for her to estimate the amount of thoughts that were flashing through his mind during those minutes.

He had kissed her then.

Not softly or romantically, but fiercely. It occurred to her that he was merely trying to shut her up or to prove a point. Her first instinct was to think that he could not possibly want her.

But _he_ had kissed _her_.

Jughead did not wait a second after closing the door. He did not wait for her to apologize or to explain herself. The redness in her cheeks was flaming, a detail he had certainly noticed.

So before she could say or ruin anything, his hands snaked around her neck and he smashed his lips into hers.

Her brain was taken aback, her body, however, was not. Grabbing his shirt, she brought him closer so their bodies were not even an inch apart. A moan surfaced as her mouth opened, granting his tongue access. He explored her mouth with such a skill that she felt her knees weakening. Her mind blanked out the moment his teeth caught her bottom lip.

In the midst of their moment, her back slammed against the wall as his mouth moved towards her neck. She tried to contain her moans to no avail. In a swift movement, her legs abandoned the ground and landed safely around his torso.

For such a forceful kiss, it was not sloppy at all. The Serpent knew what he was doing and she could not stop herself from wondering what else he could do to her.

The raven-haired man pulled back for a second, with a flushed face and swollen lips, "Is that what you came for?"

Her eyes blinked for a moment, trying to adjust to reality once more as she disappointingly unwrapped her legs from his body, "What?"

"To get attention?" he continued, "To feel better about yourself?"

"Excuse me?" her defensiveness rose as she furrowed her brows.

"We don't know each other, Betty," Jughead sighed while turning his back to her, "But I have heard about you. You are this _perfect_ girl next door."

The blonde gulped, "I hate that word."

"I'm the damaged loner outsider from the wrong side of the tracks. What is in it for you?" he looked as if he was trying to solve a puzzle in his head, "Are you looking for some excitement in your life? Something to tell your friends? Are you trying to punish your parents?"

His tone was not aggressive. In fact, he seemed like he was thinking out loud more than he was talking to her. She did not know whether he was judging her or genuinely concerned, but his words stung.

"Your friend is probably waiting for you," he finally said pointing to the car in the distance, "I think you should go home."

What he said had burst a bubble of reality that she had tried to ignore. None of what she was doing made any sense. She was ignoring consequences and acting irrationally. Going to bars, pole dancing and making out with potentially dangerous strangers. The list would eventually go on. That was not what Betty Cooper would do, ever.

But what did being perfect-girl-next-door Betty Cooper ever bring her?

An unhappy, unfulfilled, controlled life. And above all else, pain.

"No," she finally said after a while, his eyes surprised at her refusal.

"No?"

"No," taking a deep breath as she sat on the steps of the Whyte Wyrm entrance. He hesitated for a moment but eventually took a seat next to her.

His hand reached for the pocket of his leather jacket, taking a pack of cigarettes out. He placed one between his lips and a flame appeared from the lighter with a flick of his fingers. The blonde timidly extended her hand, silently asking for one. This time he did not act surprised.

"What is it about midnight conversations that feel so intimate?" she pondered aloud as she inhaled the cigarette fumes.

They locked eyes for what felt like a lifetime before he answered, "It's quiet."

She cocked her head to the side, confused by his response, "What do you mean?"

"It's peaceful because it's quiet. There are no distractions or disturbances," the Snake explained, never breaking eye contact with her, "You can fully grasp someone else's presence. Not only what they are saying, but how they say it. You can read between the lines of their vulnerability–"

"—Because people are more vulnerable in the spotlight," Betty finished his thought and he assented in agreement.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette and exhaling the cloud of smoke, he asked, "Do you feel in the spotlight right now?"

"Yes," she answered with sincerity, "But every now and then one deserves a spotlight, even if it is not a good show."

"So take the stage then."

Her former disgust for cigarettes was turning into a much needed relaxation thanks to the nicotine. Her walls came crashing down for a reason she did not bother to pinpoint, but one that was palpable if she cared enough to find out what it was.

"My entire life—" she stopped for moment in order to sigh, "I felt like I was a puppet, someone whose every decision was predestined for her from the very beginning. And even when I thought I was free, out of this God-forsaken town, I had been so conditioned to live pulled by someone else's strings that I had forgotten how to be anything else. I'm in a stranger's body, watching their lives unfold."

"That's why you said that you felt out of control."

The blonde nodded, "Every decision I make must fit the Betty Cooper description because I simply am not strong enough to do otherwise. I _am_ the perfect girl next door, it is true, and what a curse that is."

She felt a strong urge to laugh at her own misery since the other option was the complete opposite, but she shed enough tears in the past to be able to do so tonight.

"You know what's funny?" she chuckled dryly without expecting any acknowledgement from his side, "My older sister was a teenage mom and married into a family my parents absolutely loathe and she's still more loved than I will ever be."

Jughead questioned slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "Do you resent your sister for it?"

"No! God, no," Betty reaffirmed while shaking her head and her voice softened, "Polly— my sister, is the kindest and most loving person I have ever met. If it weren't for her I would have lost my mind years ago. She had her own problems to deal with, yet she never turned her back on me. Even helped me recover from–" she stopped herself, clearing her throat, before she could say too many details, "A lot of things that happened."

They fell into silence for a some time, their cigarettes long turned into ashes and toxic smoke. She felt somewhat relieved and worried at the same time for sharing private thoughts with a person she had not known for a long time at all. Nevertheless, the amount of years of friendship was not a necessarily proportional to its quality.

Realization downed on her that she had not precisely answered his initial question, the one that had upset her after they kissed.

"The reason I'm here–" the green-eyed woman started before being interrupted.

A hand landed delicately on her cheek, his green eyes glued to hers, "You don't have to explain anything else."

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, noticing how soft his hand was as his thumb stroked her cheek. She whispered regardless, "I am here because I want to be, even though I shouldn't be. It is the one thing I wanted to do tonight."

He countered, "I am not sure how I can help you."

"I know you don't owe me anything and it's not fair of me to expect anything from you, but _this_ –" her hand signaled to the both of them, "Feels right."

As he took a deep breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know I don't know you, Jughead, but I want to," her voice was shy but her eyes did not leave his, she leaned against his palm, "And I need someone to know me too."

"Betty–"

"I need you," the woman admitted in an almost inaudible sound, "It's insane, reckless and stupid. I'm aware. I don't know you and I don't even know if I like you–

But I need you."

He removed his gaze from hers and did not say a word for a while, his hand left her face to run through his hair. The blonde started fidgeting with her fingers out of nervousness, feeling like a century had passed. There was not much she could say that was not said already.

Perhaps she was delusional for thinking that she could drop by and insert herself into someone's life uninvited. That was not the way it worked. One could kick a locked door down, but in the end it did not mean one was welcomed. It was just a broken door.

"I will go then," her legs stretched out of her sitting position, "I'm sorry."

She was ready to head to Veronica's car when something pulled her back. Betty looked down at his hand grabbing hers and her heart accelerated without a warning, her pulse ringing in her ears. Her mouth dried up and she forgot how to breathe in that moment.

"Or you could stay," his voice was low and tender, vulnerable even, and he said it in such a way that she would never be able to erase from her mind, "Stay."

She was invited in.


End file.
